Ballet Across the Globe: Rudolf Nureyev and the Paris Opera Ballet
The Palais Garnier, the Paris Opera. Photo: Eric Pouhier, 2005
The name Rudolf Nureyev is undoubtedly familiar to many- his charming looks, brilliant technical skill, and exemplary artistry have served as fixtures in the balletic Zeitgeist since his rise to stardom in the late 1950s. What many may not know is that part of his lasting presence ascends beyond individual star power and rests in the realm of the Paris Opera Ballet. The esteemed institution is the oldest national ballet company to exist and boasts some of the best classical ballet dancers in history. Romantic ballet classics such as La Sylphide and Giselle had their premiere at the Paris Opera; the appearance of legends such as Romantic ballerina Marie Taglioni (famous for pioneering pointe work/technique) and late twentieth-century ballerina Sylvie Guillem on the Paris Opera stage led to profound changes in the aesthetic demands made of female dancers.
Nureyev was appointed Artistic Director of the Paris Opera Ballet in 1983. His directorship altered the ethos of the company both internally and externally as he renovated the very architecture of the Paris Opera Ballet’s studios to improve conditions for the dancers. Committed to diversifying the Opera’s repertoire, he pushed the French style in new directions, welcoming choreographers like Paul Taylor and Bill Forsythe to encourage the dancers to embrace other styles of dance, leading the company to new heights. Nureyev had always swum against the tide, and he continued to do so in Paris.
Ballet’s beloved boy was born on 17 March 1938 on the Trans-Siberian Railway near Lake Baikal in Siberia; he would later see his birth on a train as a metaphor for his life in exile. Nureyev’s family came from peasant stock and faced great financial hardship. His father made a career as a political instructor in the Red Army and strongly opposed his son’s desire to become a dancer. Nureyev was a late starter. He initially took classes in folk dance, highly popular in the Soviet Union at the time. At 17, against all odds, he realised his dream and entered into Leningrad Ballet School, now known as the Vaganova Ballet Academy, where he trained under and lived with Alexander Pushkin and his wife.
After graduating in 1958, he joined the Kirov Ballet, now known as the Mariinsky Ballet, where he immediately danced soloist and principal roles, partnering Natalia Dudinskaya, a seasoned prima ballerina who was twenty-six years his senior. Despite his rebellious attitude, he was allowed to tour with the company to the West, a coveted privilege for Soviet artists that was usually only granted to the “politically reliable.” This took place during the Cold War, and the authorities hoped that Nureyev’s electrifying stage presence could serve as a powerful weapon in the Soviet Union’s struggle over cultural superiority with the West; they soon regretted their decision. Intoxicated by everything Paris had to offer, Nureyev refused to follow the strict rules enforced by the Soviet secret police during international tours. He was ordered home to avoid a scandal. Nureyev, fearful that he would never be allowed to travel and be forced to dance in the Soviet provinces only, defected on 16 June 1961.
He began dancing with Grand Ballet du Marquis de Cuevas and soon became a permanent guest of The Royal Ballet as a principal dancer, embarking on a long stage partnership with Britain’s prima ballerina Margot Fonteyn, at 42 almost twenty years older than him. The pair have remained one of ballet history's most treasured duos. In this interview Fonteyn and Nureyev tell us how they met, and candidly discuss their dynamic both in the realm of movement and regarding their relationship on and off stage (there’s also a beautiful excerpt of them performing Giselle Act II Pas De Deux).
Nureyev guested internationally and in 1983, he was appointed as the Artistic Director of Paris Opera Ballet by the Minister of Culture, Jack Lang. There, he began to choreograph his own ballets and restage Petipa’s works. He premiered Manfred (1979), a one act ballet based onLord Byron’s poem, Cinderella (1987) set in Hollywood in the 1930’s, created on and for Sylvie Guillem, and revamped classical ballets such as Swan Lake and La Bayadère. He specifically altered them to include more robust male parts, while remaining true to Petipa’s original choreographic structure. According to Julie Kavanagh’s book Nureyev: The Life, these classical works were, “hardly known at the Palais Garnier. The reason for this was the French public’s preference for short, innovative pieces rather than revivals spanning a whole evening.” (Kavanagh, 565). His work remains at the center of Paris Opera Ballet’s repertoire, successfully expanding their repertoire.
His directorship was rather unconventional as Nureyev opted to continue to dance alongside the company while acting as its Artistic Director until 1990. He was emphatic that the POB dancers train in Bournonville and Balanchine technique, and aimed for a 50/50 split in the company's repertoire between classical ballet and contemporary style. At the time, this was unheard of. Kavanagh tells us he wanted his “company [POB]...to dance the works of Lucinda Childs or Karole Armitage.” (Kavanagh, 563). He also mentored many of today's French ballet legends such as Isabelle Guérin, Manuel Legris, Élisabeth Platel, and, of course, Sylvie Guillem. Here Elizabeth Platel talks candidly about her time dancing with and under his direction, telling us, “He was far more often in the studio than in the office,” complicating yet leveling the power dynamic between the dancers and their boss.
He attempted, though never succeeded, in ending the Concours de Promotion, a Parisian system created in 1860 for company promotion whereby dancers must prepare and perform two rounds of variations before a jury – composed of POB ballet masters and directors. This process was and remains the only means of promotion within the company. Nureyev despised it and managed to circumvent it by inviting promising young dancers to tour with him and make their debuts at The State Opera Ballet of Vienna. His creativity in circumventing such an important French tradition stemmed from Nureyev’s understanding and commitment to respecting the limited time dancers have to dance. Florence Clerc expresses this when she says, “If you were good, there was no question of waiting. With Rudolf you were given your chance.”, Sylvie Guillem adds, “He knew the importance of time, because dancers don’t have the time.”
Despite his complex character and tumultuous relationships with his company as a whole, his devotion and attention to the dances he created were and remain mesmerizing. Elizabeth Platel says, “He will use all the notes, the notes of the melody but also the notes underneath. And it brought us a new way of listening to music scores.”(3:28).
Despite his attempts at diversifying the company’s repertoire, I find Nureyev’s iterations of Petipa’s choreography entirely harmonious and homogenous with the French ballet style. The technique boasts exact, refined footwork, seen here in a clip of 14-year-old Aurelie Dupont. She executes a technically complex pointe work combination with a balance of speed and refinement as her teacher Christian Vaussard cheers her on with gusto. The French epaulement is noticeably understated, even in this video of the 16-year-old future étoile, Dorothée Gilbert. Despite her energetic ballon, her legs remain clean and exact, and her upper body exudes a calm and collected quality. This balance of technical intricacies and a serene and controlled stage presence breathes life to Nureyev’s restaging of Petipa’s ballets. Here Dorothée Gilbert, now older and dancing with Paris Opera, shines in Nureyev’s Raymonda variation (1:17:57). Despite the languid, ornate accompaniment, her capacity to halt time with skilful pirouettes and musical balances musters excitement; she doesn’t just conquer Nureyev’s technical challenges but shows them off as if their intricacies accessorize her innate beauty. Last but not least, this iconic video of Sylvie Guillem in Nureyev’s Raymonda speaks for itself. Her feet pierce the floor while her ankles flutter about as her upper body sways and collects itself into taught poses. This choreographic dichotomy of tension and release catapults the dancer into a realm of dreamy yet regal command- a perfect symbiosis of ballerina and choreographer. Nureyev’s dancing exuded similar qualities, one’s impossible to be forgotten; his movement referred to by Joan Acocella in the London Review of Books as, “an unleashed force, something undiscussable in the language of reason or morals.”
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